


Of Burnt Bridges And Splintered Minds

by spooninspoon417



Category: Bates Motel (2013)
Genre: F/M, Incest, Obsession, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:19:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooninspoon417/pseuds/spooninspoon417
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dylan and Norma get closer. Norman observes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Burnt Bridges And Splintered Minds

He doesn’t look over at her from the passenger’s seat. He just sits and watches the forest blur by as they leave the motel in the dust. His thoughts race around in circles. Mostly he wonders if her newfound affection for him is sincere. She has to appreciate what he’s done for her, but something inside him rebels at the idea that she’s seen past the venom he’s been spitting since he arrived in this place. Hell, the venom he’s been spitting since he could talk. Guilt twists his stomach. He lashes out just to see her hurt and usually, it feels pretty damn good. Lately, though, it’s been getting to him. The heartache that glows in her eyes coupled with the weariness that marks her every move hurts him like nothing ever has and from that pain, he’s finally realized the truth. She’s doing what she has to for Norman and he’s doing what he has to to be a part of her life. It’s all he’s ever really wanted. 

The slight screech of the brakes pulls him from his thoughts. They’re already in the parking lot of the diner and Norma’s already half way out of the car. Dylan shoves his way out and follows closely behind her, trying to avoid the feeling that wells inside him at the sight of her swaying hips. She leads him to the very last booth at the end of the row and keeps her ice blue eyes on him as he settles into the seat across from her. 

“It’s quieter back here.” She says. 

The bright white light that illuminates the diner burns into his eyes. His head was pounding. When was the last time he had a cigarette? He can’t remember. He blinks rapidly and blinding spots stain the back of his eyelids. 

“Are you all right?” Her voice floats to him, breaking the blue haze of his wanderings. 

“I’m fine.” Really, he isn’t sure. He doesn’t sleep and when he does, all he hears is gunshots and the deafening sound of a body caving in beneath his tires. He can’t imagine why it bothers him so much; he’d done the right thing on both accounts. That much was sure. 

He could use a cocktail, he decides, and the chances of finding one in this place are slim. 

“Couldn’t you go for a drink, Norma?” He asks it with an air of seductiveness that just seems to escape around her. 

Her eyes study him and he can identify her worry. It’s the first motherly emotion he’s seen since that hug on the stairs. The soft echo of her body pressed against him still haunts his every waking thought. God, they’re so screwed up. 

“You should cut back.” She warns. “The cigarettes, too. It isn’t good for you, Dylan.” 

Dylan lets out a disbelieving chortle. “Yeah, well, neither are bullets.” He gestures with his injured arm for emphasis. 

“I’m serious.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.” 

A slightly awkward silence precedes the waitress’s arrival. Norma orders for the both of them and Dylan’s left feeling like a seven year old kid being dictated by his mother’s need for control. He wonders if this is how Norman feels on a regular basis. He’s sure it is. 

Broaching the subject of Norman isn’t something Dylan wants to do tonight. He’s learned to accept Norma’s more obnoxious habits, overbearingness disguised as motherhood chief among them. Yet, warmth floods him at the idea that Norma is finally showing how she cares in the only way she knows. 

That weariness hangs over her now, even more evident in the harshness of the diner’s light. He wishes there was something he could do, anything to alleviate it, even slightly. But, he doesn’t have a chance to voice it because she’s reaching across the table and pulling his uninjured hand toward her. He stares while she strokes along his fingers and squeezes tight. “Thank you.” Vulnerability that he isn’t used to hearing laces her tone. It makes his heart swell. He’s never been so grateful to see such weakness. 

He gives her a sad smile and a resolute nod. “You’re welcome, Mom.” It startles him and judging from the shadow that passes over her face, it startles her, too. Somehow, it manages to leave a sour taste in his mouth, but Norma’s mood inflates. She drops her forehead onto their joined hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. A kind of shock that isn’t anywhere near innocent shoots through him. He pulls his hand away, desperate to send the feeling back to the far reaches of wherever the fuck it came from. 

She deflates immediately and that guilt from the car ride returns full force. Thankfully, their food arrives and he manages to avoid the subject. How could he possibly tell her what he was thinking? 

 

The car ride back to the motel is basically silent and Dylan can feel it closing in around them. Silence has never suited them. It never seemed to be worth anything alongside their affinity for cutting words and emotional violence. Briefly, he wonders if Norma ever fought with Norman before he showed up back in their lives. He comes to the conclusion that they didn’t and the glass wall that holds back his burning envy shatters. 

He throws a glance her way and is surprised to find that she’s full of nervous energy. She’s tapping incessantly on the wheel and biting her bottom lip. It’s something else he isn’t used to seeing. Nervousness seemed so wrong for her. He’d never known her to be this…fragile.

The urge to touch her overwhelmed him. Norman’s touch always seemed to calm her. Could his do the same? He doesn’t think it could, so he keeps the silence up, turning away from her to wordlessly berate himself. 

The words “Bates Motel” glow blue just ahead of them. 

 

Norman sits alone in the Motel office. The desk lamp shines yellow light on his vacant expression. His stillness breaks momentarily when he runs a nervous hand down his pant leg. He can’t seem to find any peace, not when the house and the motel are both noticeably empty. Emptiness promotes loneliness and those things are dangerous for him. It leaves him alone with his thoughts; thoughts that are still overrun with images of Bradley. The images slowly eat him alive every time he closes his eyes, despite the knowledge that he’d been played like a fool. Girls could always fool him, but thankfully, they could never fool his mother. 

That’s when headlights shine into the office and brighten the oppressing blackness of the night. It’s his mother’s car and he can make out Dylan in the front seat. The breaks squeal and his mother bolts from the driver’s side, stomping away, making a big show. Dylan emerges in a flash and Norman can hear him calling her name. He rises from the desk and moves toward the door, ready to alleviate the tension if need be. He doesn’t get the chance because Dylan’s grabbing their mother’s arm and spinning her around. Norman watches him fall into her embrace; his blood runs cold. 

His mother pulls his older brother closer, running her hands along the back of his head and placing a kiss on his jawline. Norman’s hand finds the doorknob as he watches her kiss Dylan’s cheek and the corner of his mouth. What happens next creates a numbness that spreads from his head to his toes. Dylan turns his head and their lips meet. The beast locked within the confines of Norman’s psyche snarls, but Norman can’t move. He can’t do anything, so he observes while red hot, pulsing anger burns in his veins. 

 

Dylan doesn’t know what possessed him to do it. It was too overwhelming, having her so close, kissing him like that. The urge just crept up on him and now, he’s on her mouth and she’s tense, but she isn’t stopping him the way he thought she might’ve. He isn’t sure what to make of it, but perhaps an appointment with the neighborhood psychiatrist would serve them best. One of her hands strokes along the back of his shoulders while the other tangles its fingers in his hair. No, maybe just a psychiatrist wouldn’t do; what they needed was a rubber room and a couple of straightjackets. With his good arm around her waist, he tugs her closer, deepening the kiss simultaneously. A shiver goes through her and he smiles against her lips. With a pop, she pulls away. She smirks at him and cups his cheek. 

“Good night, Dylan.” Her voice is rasped and husky and he feels pleasure shoot down his spine. He lets her go and stares after her, watching her walk away, leaving him standing alone between the motel office and cabin one. When he’s sure she’s back at the house, he pats his pockets looking for his cigarettes and finds that they’re missing. 

Norma had to have taken them while he was distracted. That damn…he shakes his head and heads up in the direction of the house, prepared to interrogate the living shit out of her. Or maybe just kiss her again. He jogs up the stone steps, catching puddles on the way up. He’s calling Norma’s name as he opens the front door and slams it shut behind him. The sound echoes outward into every empty space, reaching Norman, who still sits alone in the now dark office. 

The beast inside him pounds on a locked door, begging for release. He closes his eyes, but all he can see is the two of them trapped in that heated embrace. Stillness is impossible to find now and he hates that they took it from him. His vision swims. The pain is great enough to swallow him whole and he lets it, feels it fill in every crack and crevice inside him. It grips tight around his heart and he imagines red drops falling from the tips of black fingers. Action doesn’t seem like that great of an idea; after that first altercation with Dylan, he knows better. So, he buries it, the knowledge of what they’ve done, he sends it away, wills it to never return. 

The image doesn’t leave him, though, and he tortures himself with it until he feels like he’s drowning. 

He doesn’t go up to the house that night. He just stays silent in the darkness, wrapped tight in the clutches of his desperation.


End file.
